


So Lonely

by DRHPaints



Category: Conan O'Brien - Fandom, Conan O'Brien RPF, Late Night Host RPF, US Comedians RPF
Genre: Alcohol Use/Vomiting, Angst, Blow Jobs, Caretaking, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Conan and his former writer Aria have been close friends for over a decade. When Conan goes to New York to check out her comedy show, Aria decides she's going to tell him of her secret love. But when Aria tries to have a few drinks to calm her nerves, it backfires.
Relationships: Conan O'Brien/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	So Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by erdankely on tumblr. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
> 
> For those who are curious, the title comes from a song of the same name by The Police.

Checking his teeth and orange hair in the mirror, Conan sighed heavily before turning off the bathroom light and leaving his hotel room. Though Conan enjoyed New York, the city, the sights, the nostalgia, the idea of entering the Comedy Cellar tonight left him torn.

Of course he knew Aria would slay the crowd. That was a given. Conan spent the majority of his life surrounded by funny people, but there was perhaps no one who got him laughing harder than Aria.

Joining the show in his last year at  _ Late Night _ , Aria immediately became one of Conan’s favorite writers. Sometimes in those frantic final hours of sketch writing, Conan swore they shared a brain, riffing off of one another effortlessly, their comedic sensibilities synced as they tickled one another to the heights of crying mirth.

When he got  _ The Tonight Show _ and Aria debated coming along to California, Conan said do what feels right, follow your instincts. But, after all their time together, Conan would be lying if he said he didn’t want to beg her to move.

The idea of strolling into the studio and not hearing her cackle, not seeing her smiling face, left Conan with a forlorn dread it took longer than he was proud of to explain.

It wasn’t until the night of their wrap party that it finally smacked into his big Irish head. Conan was in love. To this day he wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Aria that night that did it. She still wore her loose t-shirt under a baggy flannel, her mass of crimson waves still piled haphazardly atop her head, always at least two writing utensils sticking out. 

But Conan thought maybe, maybe it was something in the way she thanked him. Aria drawing his tall frame in for a hug, Conan wondering even halfway through if they were lingering a little longer than necessary before she parted, misty eyed, trying to express her gratitude for the job, the experience, the joy, but even with her extensive lexicon and considerable talent, unable to find the words.

Thankfully Aria did, and for a time Conan developed a timidity around her, unsure how to handle their interactions with this newfound information about himself. Sure, they were both single, but there was no indication that Aria thought of him as more than a friend. And besides that, Conan was her employer, and he wouldn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable purely for the sake of taking a shot at something that would likely fail.

And so Conan remained silent, his crystalline blue eyes following her about the halls, finding excuses to have lunch together, holding his especially good bits in reserve so that Aria’s almost obnoxious laugh would be the first one to grace his ears.

But four years later, a day came when Aria knocked on the door to his office, twisting her hands and face tight. Leaving. Aria was leaving. Conan knew Aria spent her evenings on the stages of LA, honing her stand up routine. Attending as regularly as he could, Conan supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Every time he went it seemed it was more difficult to wedge his gangly body amongst the crowd. Of course Aria wanted to move back to New York to see if she could do this for real. Of course.

Now, as Conan descended the stairs to the Comedy Cellar, he was equal parts thrilled and dejected at the idea of seeing Aria. They kept in contact over the years. Witty emails, texts updating on one another’s lives, and visiting whenever possible. But each time they were together, no matter how riotously joyful a time shared, the after effect was the same. Conan slogged back to LA, alone and miserable, fresh memories not a balm, but a scouring pad against the surface of his aching heart.

***

Flicking out her wrists, Aria bounced on her toes before giving her entire body a flailing shake. Aria inspected herself in the mirror, pulling feebly at what passed for her dressiest green blouse and questioning whether or not the lipstick was overkill.

_ Why do I bother?  _ Aria’s anxiety roared before she had to ascend any stage, but tonight her nerves were sizzling. Almost a year since she saw him, the knowledge that Conan would be in the audience, his tall frame certain to see her from any vantage point, filled her with both exhilaration and dread.

Because Aria decided tonight was the night. After more than a decade’s hesitation, she simply couldn’t take it anymore. Tonight she was finally going to tell Conan she was in love with him.

Aria got close once. The words bubbling up behind her teeth as she stared into his smiling cerulean eyes. But she bit them back, swallowing her heart, coating with a thick layer of regret. 

But breaching the subject with Conan was daunting. Incandescently clever and devastatingly handsome, when Aria first started at  _ Late Night _ , she could barely talk to Conan, his ginger head bouncing around the sixth floor as Aria strove to come up with characters and sketches, somehow yearning for Conan to both notice her and terrified that those sky blue eyes might turn in her direction.

But they did. And the myth of Conan that Aria penned in her mind after years of religiously observing his wacky antics as he danced about on screen faded into the annals of history, to be replaced by the reality. Conan the man, not only funny, but sweet, remembering that lemon bars were her favorite and ferreting one aside on her behalf whenever the show ordered from the local bakery for a treat. Smart, the two of them conversing on literature, elbows perched on the table and oblivious to the passing hours as they waxed on about their favorite authors and characters, enthralled by his flexible, prismatic brain. 

And sexy. Damn, Conan was sexier than Aria ever could’ve dreamed. Freckled fingers fluffing through his ginger tresses, as if he didn’t know what a turn on that was, cruel man. Hopping on those big feet, guitar slung across his slender frame, his agile hands dancing up and down the chords with that look, that tantalizing, irresistible look of concentration etched onto his handsome features as he plucked out a tune. 

Ascending the stage, with the light in her face, Aria couldn’t see Conan as she launched into her icebreaker and the familiar tension drained from her shoulders somewhat at the first laugh from the audience. But as she rounded out the set, Aria knew he watched. For Aria, Conan was like the shovel one keeps in the trunk of their car during the winter. Big, unwieldy, and most of the time she didn’t know what to do with him in the context of her existence. But knowing he was there, waiting, sturdy and strong and purposeful, was reassuring, and Aria trusted she could count on Conan when she skidded into the ditch of life.

When Aria disappeared off stage, the claps of Conan’s large hands were possibly the most raucous of all before he wormed his way to the front of the room, thankful of his skinny figure for once as he caught sight of a bobbing red head.

“Hey!” Fingers falling on her shoulder, Aria turned around to find the radiant smile on Conan’s face beaming down on her.

Aria draped her arms over his shoulders and Conan caught her waist for an embrace as she took in his scent, the bergamot clinging to his pale skin, the rich smell of his leather jacket in which he looked mouth-wateringly gorgeous before they parted. “Hey! Good to see you. How was the flight?”

“Oh good, good.” Balling his hands in his pockets, Conan rocked back and forth on his heels, trying not to stare. Conan thought Aria’s beauty undeniable, but with the touch of burgundy lipstick and whatever it was she did to enhance her scarlet mane since his last visit, Aria was stunning. “So…” Glancing back over his shoulder at the crowd, Conan stuck out his lower lip. “Food?”

“Yeah.” Aria nodded.” Let’s go.” They walked up the stairs and into the brisk evening air, Aria suggesting they take a cab to one of her favorite restaurants that did killer fajitas. Though a stroll to catch up with him sounded pleasant, she wanted to spare Conan the trouble of being stopped by fans every few feet.

Each getting an order of fajitas, Conan got a Guinness and was mildly surprised when Aria requested a bourbon. “What, got tired of vodka sours and hard ciders?”

“Oh, um…” In truth, Aria hoped to imbibe herself with some liquid courage in the face of the conversation before her, but she merely flashed a smile. “Just felt like something stronger, I guess. So, you said things are going pretty well at the show. How’s Andy and everyone doing?”

Conan bobbed his head and their drinks arrived. “Oh Andy, he’s great.” Hauling the drink to her lips, Aria tossed it back with a grimace before waving down the waiter for another and Conan’s eyes widened. “How...about you? How’ve you been?”

“Could I have another double, actually make that a triple please, thank you.” Aria told the waiter, fidgeting her hands under the table before facing Conan. “Oh, um...pretty good. The stand up thing is going well. Done a little punch up here and there for a handful of shows when I can. Just trying to stay busy, you know.”

Chuckling, Conan nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Lips forming into something resembling a smirk in her nerves, Aria met his crystalline blue eyes. “Better than most. Anyway…” Waiter setting the glass before her, Aria hardly allowed it to touch the table before she gulped back as much as she could manage, the brown liquid leaving her eyes watering and her throat stinging. “How about, um...other stuff? Are...you seeing anyone? Anything like that?”

Conan shifted uncomfortably. Aria didn’t drink, not like this. Sure, there were a couple of times over the years where, on New Year’s perhaps, she would have a few too many over the course of several hours, winding up tipsy and giggly, but seeing her slamming back hard liquor made him nervous that perhaps Aria developed a problem in his absence. “Oh, nope.” Palms aloft in defeat, Conan shrugged. “Free and clear. You? Anyone special?”

Shaking her head was a mistake. Unaccustomed to a stiff drink, the searing liquid sloshed around her hollow stomach, Aria fasting due to her stage jitters since early that afternoon. Food arriving, a plate of sizzling meats and vegetables wafted, the normally delectable scent making Aria’s guts roil, shoving her tongue to the roof of her mouth in compensation.

Slow blinks and long swallows, Aria’s face turned away from him, pushing at the table’s edge as though she wanted to escape. Conan knit his brow together and leaned in. “Aria, you okay?”

“No, I…” Hand to her mouth, Aria started to stand. “I think I might be sick.”

“Okay, come on.” Standing, Conan took Aria about the waist, hurriedly leading her across the restaurant. Thankfully they possessed individual restrooms and the ladies’ was unoccupied as Aria wretched, Conan gathering her auburn hair back and rubbing soothing circles into her back with his large hand.

Once the majority of the offending liquid was expelled, Aria wiped her mouth with toilet paper, flushing and resting back with her head against the cool tile, taking slow, even breaths.

“I’m going to go get you some water, okay?” Conan murmured, cupping her cheek. Aria nodded weakly before she saw his tall frame bound out of the bathroom, returning a couple of minutes later with a glass. “Here you go. Drink slowly.”

Bobbing her head, Aria took a few hesitant sips, her stomach apparently deciding to accept the visitors. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Conan nodded. After a few minutes, he patted Aria’s arm. “Do you feel like you can get up?”

“Yeah.”

Standing, Conan held a hand out. “Okay, let’s get you home.” Conan plunked a couple of bills down on the table as they passed, arm around Aria’s waist before they stepped outside to hail a cab.

Aria didn’t particularly need Conan to hold her up. Now that the alcohol was out of her system, though queasy and sporting a mild headache, her mind was relatively clear. It was tempting to lean against him, to tuck her head into the crook of his neck, wrap her arm around his slender hips, but Aria simply stood, not drifting into Conan’s warmth, but unable to tell him to remove his hand where it rested on her hip.

Back at Aria’s apartment, Conan guided her to the couch. “Do you think you can eat something?”

“Um...toast?” Aria lifted an eyebrow. “But I can make it, it’s no problem.” 

She started to stand, but Conan touched her shoulder. “It’s okay. I may be useless in the kitchen, but…” Conan chuckled. “I can at least manage toast.”

Coming to her with a plate, napkin, and water, Conan watched quietly as Aria munched, carefully composing his thoughts. “Aria, I…” Conan took her hand once she wiped her mouth. “I’m worried about you. I don’t...I don’t want you to be angry, or anything, but…” Swallowing, he gave her fingers a squeeze. “I think you might need some help. I...I can make some calls. Find a place…”

“Conan,” Aria laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not an alcoholic.”

Voice gentle, Conan continued. “Aria, I...I’m sure it’s difficult. And everyone struggles with something, so--”

“No, really.” Hand taking his forearm, Aria caught Conan’s light blue gaze. “I think the last time I had more than a couple of hard ciders at once was the time we all played that game...oh shit, what was it? That thing Andy heard about on the internet that for some reason we all thought was a good idea?”

“Ohhh.” Conan nodded with a groan. “Straight Face.”

Conan remembered the night vividly, despite the fact that they all rightfully should have come away with alcohol poisoning. The idea was they wrote phrases on slips of paper, as ridiculous or embarrassing as possible, mixing them up in a bowl, to be delivered to the group. If one of them couldn’t do so without breaking, they had to drink. 

The offerings were varied and hilarious. Everything from  _ ‘why yes, Duchess, this is my platonic life partner, Sir Dexter Von Butterpants the Fourth, though he does enjoy having his teeny nipples played with on occasion _ ’ to  _ ‘How dare you, you uncultured, leech ridden skank? I shall have your head cleaved in twain, you obtrusive gobbledy mongrel!’  _

When Aria’s fingers dipped into the bowl and a secret smirk played over her lips, she took a minute to compose herself before facing Conan, emerald eyes piercing and expression stern. “Okay,” Reviewing her paper, Aria cleared her throat before continuing. “I...like to bangarang and go to pound town on the fuck truck.” 

Her nose flared, her eye twitched, Conan smiled and she lost it, laughter overtaking her lovely face. Conan pointed accusingly at her drink. “Gotcha! Drink up, fool!” Whipping a finger in the air, Conan spoke in a silly, high pitched taunt and Aria shook her head, sipping at him with a grin.

Conan chuckled at the reminiscence, turning to Aria. “Alright, well. I’m glad to hear that, I guess.”

“Yeah, I just…” Biting her lip, Aria looked away. “I was just...upset about something. And I handled it poorly, so…”

Tilting his head, Conan shifted on the couch. “What are you upset about?”

“Well, I, um…” Hands crawling over themselves in her lap, Aria took a steeling breath. “I...I was going to tell you at dinner, I...I wrote a pilot. And it got picked up by HBO, so, I’m moving back to LA in a month or so.”

“Oh that’s great!” Conan beamed, taking her hand. “Congratulations. It’ll be wonderful to have you around town again.”

“Yeah, about that…” Swallowing, Aria pushed her palms into the couch and turned away from him. “I...I, um...this is hard to talk about, but...I don’t...Conan, I’m sorry but I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

Dumbfounded, Conan blinked, settling back and mouth hanging open. “But...but why? Aria, did I do something wrong? Because if I did, please. Just tell me, I...whatever it is, let’s just--”

“No.” Aria shook her head, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You didn’t. I just…” Eyes on the floor, she faced him. “Could you...could you not look at me while I say this? And, um…” Voice tremulous, Aria fisted her hands. “After, just...just leave, okay? We don’t...we don’t have to talk about it.”

Alarmed, Conan reached out for her but Aria withdrew. “Aria, what’s going on?”

“Please.” Mouth a flat line, Aria couldn’t hold back the tears threatening to overflow much longer. “Just don’t look at me, okay?”

“Alright.” Conan softly replied, turning to face the door.

Swiping a hand over her cheek as the first intruder breached, Aria blinked. “Okay, so, um...I…” Aria inhaled, closing her eyes. “I can’t see you anymore because, um…” Aria gnawed at her lip. “Because I have feelings for you.” Conan whipped around and Aria immediately hid her weeping face. “Conan, please...please, don’t.” Sob escaping her, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just...I can’t. It’s too hard. I can’t do it anymore.” Folding over on herself, more than ten years, thousands of days of restrained woe poured out of her and between Aria’s fingers as she fought for breath. “And, I…” Voice difficult to discern, Aria hitched again and again. “I...I...when I get to LA, I just...I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Conan scooted over the couch, timidly resting his hand on her trembling back. “Aria…”

“Please…” Aria gasped, imploring face red and eyes puffy as she rose to look at him. “Don’t. Don’t try to make me feel better, okay? Just…” Swallowing, Aria shook her head, smearing a hand through the dewy grief on her cheeks. “Just go. Please.”

“Aria, I…” Leaning in, Conan lowered his voice. “I feel the same way.”

Blinking, Aria studied his chiseled features, waiting for the twist, the joke, but Conan’s oceanic eyes held nothing but genuine affection. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah.” A high chuckle squeaked out of Conan in relief. “Yeah, I do. I…” Interlacing their fingers, Conan’s other hand brushed an errant red strand from Aria’s face. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Aria.” 

Swooping in, Conan was inches from Aria’s mouth when her palm went to his chest. “Oh, I…” Aria covered her mouth. “I should really brush my teeth first.”

“I don’t care.” Capturing her lips, Conan and Aria emitted a mutual groan of contentment, her fingers winding into his orange tresses as they tilted their heads, tongues twirling and awash in the succor of one another’s presence.

“Alright, um…” Aria parted, trembling hand at her brow and chuckling. “I...I really am going to brush my teeth now, but, um…” Polishing Conan’s sharp cheekbone, she studied his face. “Would...do you want to stay? Tonight?”

Conan traced her lower lip with his thumb. “Are you sure? Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, well…” Considering for a moment, Aria blinked. “You know what, do you mind if we...I want to take a shower, and I think I could use more food. Want to order something? I…” Aria plucked the collar of Conan’s shirt and smiled. “I want you desperately, but I also don’t want to feel like garbage, if that’s alright.”

Nodding, Conan smiled. “Of course. You wanna jump in the shower and I’ll order something? What’re you in the mood for?” Aria gave him a look. “Right, right, okay.” Holding up his palms, Conan knew better than to ask. Aria was hopelessly addicted to one particular tiny Chinese place half a mile away, and during their time at  _ Late Night _ it boggled him how she could eat the same walnut shrimp repeatedly without getting sick of it. 

Conan unpacked the containers as Aria padded out of the bathroom. Hand frozen in midair, now that Conan knew she wouldn’t mind, he found it difficult not to stare as she took down two plates, wet crimson hair slicked down her back, clothing clinging suggestively to the damp spots on her skin.

“Damn…” Conan sighed, passing her the fried rice as they made their way to the table. 

Shaking some out on her plate, Aria was occupied with not spilling and didn’t see Conan’s hungry expression. “Hmm?”

“Oh just…” Tongue darting over his thin lips, Conan raised an almost impossibly faint orange eyebrow. “You look good.”

Green eyes flicking up, Aria slowly lowered the rice to the table before selecting the shrimp. “You think so?” 

Conan grabbed the kung pao, gaze unmoving. “It’s a fact.”

“Well…” Skewering a bite, a pink hue decorated Aria’s cheeks as she lifted it to her mouth. “You always look good.”

“Yeah?” Sharp jaw rolling, Conan smirked.

“Mmhmm…” Examining him, Aria wrapped her plump lips lasciviously around her fork, chewing purposefully before responding. “You’re very sexy, Conan.”

Conan chuckled, piece of chicken halfway to his mouth. “Oh, you think so, huh?” Aria nodded. “Tell me. How long...has this...have you felt this way?”

Shrugging, Aria waited to swallow before responding. “Pretty much forever. Sorry if that’s...weird.” Aria pulled a face. “You?”

“Same.” Aria sighed with relief and Conan grinned. “So...all this time. You...been thinking about things?”

Chewing, Aria eyed him with mock-curiousity. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. O’Brien?”

Conan looked down at his plate, fork prodding. Selecting a piece of chicken, he brought it to his slender lips, consuming, swallowing. It was probably two full minutes of silence, during which his sky blue eyes avoided her until the final moment before his mouth opened, emitting a voice low, steady. “Do you think about how you want me to fuck you, Aria?”

Fork clattering to her plate, Conan’s satisfied smile was almost infuriating as she picked it up, hastily composing herself and continuing to eat. “I, um…” Clearing her throat before picking up a wonton, Aria chose boldness. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

Eyes on his rice, Conan took one bite. Chewed. Took another. “How do you like it?” Chin down, his sculpted jaw worked over the Chinese food as Conan resolutely avoided her gaze, though Aria didn’t get the sense he was ashamed, but rather that she sat across from an unruly beast barely held back behind the cage of Conan’s gangly frame. “Tell me what you like.”

“I…” Aria swallowed, half eggroll between her fingers forgotten. “You know how...how sometimes at rehearsal you get a little...edgy?”

Conan’s eyes were a stormy blue as they locked into her own, a smirk dancing over his thin lips. “I may be guilty of that from time to time, yes.”

“Well, I…” Exhaling through her nose, Aria forgot to blink. “That gets me really...hot. When you…” Hand holding the side of the table, she couldn’t look away from his drilling gaze. “When you...get worked up and...boss people around.”

Eyebrow popping, nostrils flaring, Conan’s pupils dilated as he stared into Aria’s lust-laden green eyes. “Oh yeah? Do you…” Heart beating a tattoo against his chest, Conan’s freckled hand fisted around his fork. “Do you want me to tell you what to do, Aria?”

Aria wiped her fingers on her napkin. “Yeah...yeah…” Nipples hardening beneath her t-shirt, Conan’s eyes darted down, the two poking nubs greeting him as he relaxed back in his chair. “Do it.”

“Alright.” Tongue moving over his teeth inside of his mouth, Conan examined her. “Come over here.”

Rising, Aria’s legs jellied with anticipation as she took the three steps over to Conan, his long body shifting in his chair to face her. It was then she observed the outline of his massive erection fighting beneath the denim of his dark wash skinny jeans, Conan running a palm along its length. “Take off your clothes.”

Aria nodded, lifting her shirt overhead. Upon seeing her ample breasts, Conan gave himself a generous squeeze, eliciting a soft moan before she shrugged out of her shorts and panties. Normally Aria would be at least a tad self conscious about her body in the stark light of her kitchen, but Conan’s commanding stair, the years worth of barely suppressed desire, and the insistent slickness between her thighs as she couldn’t drag her attention from his huge cock, evaporated her inhibitions.

“Do you…” Voice catching, Conan stroked himself, spreading his long legs wide. “Do you like to suck, Aria? Hmm? Would you…” Unbuttoning his jeans and pausing, Conan lifted his sharp chin in challenge. “Would you do that for me?”

Dropping to her knees, Aria nodded eagerly. “Yes…” Scrambling to undo his zipper, Aria hooked her fingers underneath the waistband of his pants, urging them down Conan’s narrow hips along with his boxers. “I’ve thought about sucking you so many times…” Aria breathed, hand wrapping around Conan’s long cock and pumping as her eyes fell closed in rapture and she nuzzled her cheek against his shaft.

“Mmm…” Conan’s lengthy fingers wound into her scarlet locks, hips squirming. “Oh yeah? Me too. Fuck…” Mouth enclosing the wide head of his cock in an intoxicating heat, Aria sucked the tip feverishly for a moment and Conan’s knees drew up, a tittering cry leaking from his lips before he deflated. “Fuck... _ yes, Aria _ .”

Tongue whipping around, Aria sank down, gobbling Conan’s substantial cock voraciously. “ _ Oh Aria...fuck… _ ” Twisting his heels into the floor, Conan massaged her scalp, breath shallow as he fought to keep his eyes open to watch her bobbing head. “I’ve thought about this...so many times.  _ Fuck _ , your mouth...I...I would…” Conan swallowed, arching his neck. “I would picture your mouth on my cock. And get...get so goddamn hard I’d have…” Aria’s cheeks hollowed and Conan gasped before he could continue. “I’d have to jerk off in my office thinking about this... _ fuck… _ ”

When Aria chuckled around his tender cock it made Conan smile despite being in the throes of ecstasy. Heat gathering in the pit of his stomach, Conan bit his lip and shook his head. “Alright...alright, stop.” He tapped Aria’s shoulder and she popped off, flashing a wicked grin as she rubbed her thumb teasingly into his frenulum before standing. A deep, rumbling chuckle echoed from Conan’s chest as he put himself away. “Ohhh, keep looking at me like that and you’re going to get in trouble.”

Walking backward toward the bedroom, Aria made her eyebrows dance. “What if I’m looking for trouble, Mr. O’Brien?” 

Conan laughed, freckled hands at her waist as he marched them back, Aria flicking on the light as they passed the threshold. Snatching the hemline of Conan’s PBR t-shirt, she peeled it overhead, fingers dancing admiringly over the pale flesh of his chest before he shucked off his unzipped jeans and boxers.

“Lay down.” Conan gestured with his chin toward the bed and Aria crawled back with a smile. “Spread those legs for me.” Knees flopping wide, Aria bit her lip, the dewy pink flesh winking at Conan as she alluringly wiggled her hips. “Mmm…” Conan joined her on the mattress, kneeling in between her thighs. “So….” Large hands flowing up her skin, Conan paused, cerulean eyes boring into Aria’s with patient desire. “You want me to play with this pussy? Hmm?”

“Yeah…” Aria nodded exuberantly. “Yes, please.”

“Huh.” Backs of his fingers barely grazing the soft lips, Conan tilted his head, tone gentle. “Like that?”

“Yeah…” Relaxing back, Aria swallowed. “More…”

One fingertip traced the line of her slit, Conan folding his lower lip under. “Oh? Like that?”

Hopelessly trying to raise her hips into Conan’s touch, Aria mewled in disappointment when she couldn’t find the wanted friction. “Conan…”

“Oh, is this not what you wanted?” Smirking mischievously, Conan continued to trickle over the surface, delicate pressure electrifying her clit and drenching Aria’s pussy, but she ached for direct contact. “Am I being  _ mean  _ to you, Aria?”

“ _ Conan!”  _ Aria whined, hitting her fists on the sheets. “Come on!”

Conan laughed, parting her with a nod. “Okay, okay…” Lowering himself, Conan tossed her a wink as he poised his mouth an inch above her. “But just because I like you…”

Long tongue painting a swath over her, Aria gasped, spine arching and fingers snaking into Conan’s orange tresses. Big hands hooked under her thighs, dragging her to him as Conan sent his crisp jaw forward with a moan. “ _ Oh Conan! Yes!”  _ Lapping her rapaciously, Aria ground into his chiseled features, heels kicking over his back and body thrashing as Conan devoured.

Thighs squeezing his head and fingers tearing his hair, Conan soon discovered Aria was aptly named, a high, melodic scream breaking from her euphoria-drowned form. It reminded him of the time he strolled down the halls during their brief stint at  _ The Tonight Show, _ sound of someone singing causing him to double back.

Door slightly ajar, Conan pushed it open and happened upon Aria, filing and absentmindedly belting out  _ So Lonely  _ by The Police to herself, back to him as her elegant soprano crept over the romantic lyrics that called to his forlorn soul. Part of Conan wanted to interrupt her, to knock. Aria never told him she could sing. Whenever Conan noodled around with his guitar, she showered him with praise, and Conan even thought he remembered her saying she didn’t have an aptitude for music. So the urge to tell her she was dead wrong, that Aria possessed no small amount of talent, was strong. 

But instead Conan quietly closed the door behind him, carrying the memory of her voice away like a precious jewel, ferreting it off in the corner of his consciousness and uncovering it from time to time to admire its sparkling beauty under the light.

“ _ Conan! Fuck! Yes! Yes! Fuck!”  _ Seizing, Aria’s eyes fluttered as she dripped down his sharp chin after Conan shoved her over the cliffs of oblivion for the third time, body trembling and shrieks wailing before he rose and wiped his face.

Hands cascading up her body, Conan notched himself between Aria’s legs, combing back her sweaty hair. “Aria…” Voice barely above a whisper, her flushed face caused Conan’s cock to twitch demandingly. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah…” Breathless, Aria nodded before patting his shoulder and sitting up. “Here.” Craning her neck, Aria reached into the bedside drawer and extracted a condom. 

Conan rolled it over himself before taking his cock in hand, wide head swiping between her sopping folds. “Do you like to get fucked hard, Aria?” Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, Conan inserted an inch or two to give her a taste and tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Fuck... _ yes!” _ Aria tried to drive herself onto his thick cock, nodding urgently. “ _ Yes, please! Conan, fuck me hard!” _

An almost malevolent chuckle simmered from Conan as he surged forward. “You got it.” On his knees, Conan hauled Aria’s thighs over his hips and began ramming into her with a ferocity containing a dozen years of pent up passion, thumb fiddling her clit and buoyant tangerine hair thrown back. “ _ Oh fuck! Fuck, Aria...your pussy feels so good!” _

Planting her heels in the mattress, Aria scootched down, upper back braced and bearing hard onto Conan’s pummeling cock. “ _ Yes! Fuck me! Just like that! Fuck!” _

Sensing her closing around him, Conan angled himself, hips curling in the upstroke to better hammer into Aria’s g-spot as he raced over her clit. “ _ Fuck! Yes! Cum on my cock! Do it! Cum for me, Aria! Yes! Fuck!” _

“ _ Conan! Right there! Fuck! Yes! Don’t stop! Conan!”  _ Hands aloft to push against the headboard and slamming her hips viciously against him, Aria convulsed, quaking uncontrollably as she constricted around Conan’s relentlessly barreling cock.

“ _ Oh fuck… _ ” Groan rolling into a whimper, Conan laid Aria flat, straightening his long body and slithering his arms underneath her before he began rocketing forward with abandon. “ _ Oh Aria! YEs! Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum so hard! Fuck! _ ” Humping wildly, Conan panted into her open mouth, Aria’s limbs encasing him. “ _ Fuck! Fuck! Aria, yes! Fuck! Yes! Aria!”  _ Muscles tensed and eyes shut, Conan’s sharp jaw hung open in silence. A huffing whine lifted from him as Conan jerked forward, freckled fingers digging into Aria’s skin as his lanky body collapsed on top of her with a shiver.

Trickling her fingers through his damp orange hair, Aria brushed a kiss to the joint of Conan’s sharp jaw, humming contentedly as his lips moved lazily over her skin and they rocked back and forth.

After a couple moment’s recovery, Aria chuckled beneath him and Conan raised his head. “What?”

“Oh nothing.” Smiling, Aria caressed his cheek. “Just thought it was amusing that after I made an ass of myself by getting hammered and puking, probably the least sexiest thing, that’s the night I finally got to bone you.”

Conan laughed, resting his forehead on Aria’s shoulder, reverberations of his glee bouncing against her belly. “Well, I guess you’re stuck with me then.”

Carding her fingers through Conan’s orange hair, Aria grinned. “Lucky me.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also take requests!


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